


I present you Ian Moone (alias Azrael, the Angel of Death)

by summer_time



Series: Biography of an Angel [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Being an Idiot, Anxiety Attacks, At: Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's stone, BAMF Minerva McGonagall, Background Relationships, But He Gets Better, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Child Abuse, Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Ian is so done, Ian is the only competent adult, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Nightmares, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Puberty, Rebirth, Recovery, Reincarnation, Severus Snape Being a Bastard, Severus Snape is So Done, The Golden Trio, adults are incompetent, bamf golden trio, plus one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summer_time/pseuds/summer_time
Summary: "The funny thing about when you die is that you think it all ends. Speaking as a convinced atheist, I always thought that there was no afterlife, a second chance, a transcendental life where you can right all the wrongs committed and live happily ever after. I just thought that when a person dies, he just does that: he dies. No ghosts to be able to say goodbye to your loved ones, no retracing of your life, nothing at all."Ian open her eyes in a world where Harry Potter also lives. What could possibly go wrong when you try to put an adult in a child's body and you let her befriend the future Master of Death?The answer is caos.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: Biography of an Angel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959094
Kudos: 6





	1. Back in black

**Author's Note:**

> Hello new readers!  
> This is an idea I create almost a year ago but I didn't have the time and the energy to put it down in a decent script; however, now is the right time :) I know this is a short chapter, an introduction really, but I hope to create a good work, where we can both enjoy ourselves!
> 
> English is not my first language and I have no beta, so if you find errors or mistakes, please tell me without problems and I will try to correct them as so as I can! 
> 
> Summertime ends here!

The funny thing about when you die is that you think it all ends. Speaking as a convinced atheist, I always thought that there was no afterlife, a second chance, a transcendental life where you can right all the wrongs committed and live happily ever after. I just thought that when a person dies, he just does that: he dies. No ghosts to be able to say goodbye to your loved ones, no retracing of your life, nothing at all.

Now, it's not really that I was wrong, because to be dead, I died. But because of the how and what I promised before I died (a _nd I would like to point out that my words were purely abstract, no one ever gave me a flyer on "what to say and what not to" before taking your last breath_ ), sadly now I am in an inseparable contract - which I didn't know I signed until I started working. Or rather, they forced me to make myself useful without me being able to make a lot of fuss.

I know, I know, my introduction is not that great and therefore you are not understanding it much, but rest assured: I also didn't even have a vague idea of the situation at the beginning. If I look back on it now, after (. _..what, years? Days? Centuries? My internal clock has been running out for quite a while_ ) time - I would say time is the correct word - my performance was a little too far out from the lines: I can't blame all the people who called me crazy. But let's get to us.

The first thing you need to know is that if you are "hired" by Destiny, Fate, and company, you will find yourself in a kind of timeless limbo where they decide where to send you first to get some experience and to get used to your new existence, and then you find yourself moving from one job to another without even a coffee break in between. Rude. They also give you a whole host of tools to help you, a new identity with all papers in order (an _d trust me, sometimes those papers have been a godsend_ ), some paranormal powers if you're unfortunate enough to be an important pawn ( _and guess what?_ ) and, in the end, they send you to one of the many multiverses to perform a series of tasks. Then each multiverse has a whole series of dimensions within it, which in turn include an infinite number of parallel worlds, each differentiated by the individual choices committed by people who live there. A big headache if you ask me.

The second thing is that you could be chosen too. In the end, I was a simple girl desperate for a way to save her cousin and a couple of friends: it didn't seem stupid at the time to promise body, mind, and soul to Death himself if He spared them, even though I didn't have a shred of faith. But it worked. And that's how the rest of the people present were miraculously saved, I died defending them and Death tied my essence to Him, giving me the task of going to all the universes where His domain was altered. Joy. 

My real name, the one given to me by my parents, has been lost over time and now I only remember it in the days of my death anniversary, once a year; now I'm Ian Moone ( _funny acronym given to me by Fate, those useless beings_ ) but in the future people will come to know me as Azrael, the Angel of Death.

(taken from: " ** _Biography of an Angel_** ", bearing the second life of the longest-lived Angel of Death in history: that the person behind Ian Moone - alias Azrael - could truly rest in peace at the end of her service. This author hopes that all the chosen-one aspire to repair the tears of the Quantum Multiverse as done flawlessly by her.)

҉҉҉  


The first time Ian Moone opened her eyes, she was confused to not be in a hospital bed. She remembered with absolute clarity the smell of blood on her clothes, under her nails and on her face, the stinging pain of the cut on her thigh and the throbbing pain in her belly; she also clearly remembered the last syllables sighed in the wind, a faithless prayer so that the obstacle she posed could be sufficient to repair her cousin, her friends, and all the others from certain death. Or was it all just a dream? After all, she no longer felt any pain, on the contrary she wasn't tired at all: by moving her fingers and toes she could swear that they were all intact.

_ (In the dream, because it must have been a dream, some phalanges of three fingers of the right hand were broken. But she continued to shoot.) _

_ (She still didn't know she was Ian Moone and no longer the girl who died for love.) _

She was in an unfamiliar room: two single windows through which a pale morning light came in, some decorative furniture, and two simple single beds with their white sheets, gave a perfect harmony of the environment with the antiseptic smell of the room. It was probably an infirmary, and an old-fashioned one, judging by the steel headboards of the beds and the gratings on the windows.

"Oh sweetie, you finally woke up!"

A chubby woman, in a nurse's uniform ( _probably pulled out of her grandmother's trunk, seriously, what was going on?_ ) approached maternally. Mechanically, she placed the newspaper and the glass of water she held in his hands on the nearby bedside table, then placed herself next to the edge of the bed; with expert hands she touched the girl's forehead, smiling as if it were Christmas.

"You gave us a good scare! Fortunately, this sudden fever of yours went away immediately, you only needed rest and fluids, as Dr. Chase had foreseen. Now drink a little, I'm sure you're thirsty! "

The woman's jovial voice did nothing but continue to confuse the girl: she seemed to have a great familiarity but Ian-who-didn't-know-she-was-Ian didn't have the faintest idea who she was. Or where she was. However, she accepted the water and the itching in her throat lessened; smiling at the woman, she tried not to make her understand how confused she was by the whole situation.

"How many - she had not spoken for a few days given her hoarse voice - days have I been sick?"

"Oh Ian, always worried about everything! Don't worry darling, it's only been a few days and the fever is no longer present since yesterday, so tonight you can go back to sleep with the other girls, I'm sure they all missed you. "

_ (What?) _

"And remember dear, just after lunch you have a visit with the teacher from the other week to go get the materials for the new school. I am so happy that they allowed an intelligent child like you in!"

_ (Zero ideas on what she was talking about.) _

Not even time to reply that the woman disappeared behind a white door in the opposite wall. Ian (because apparently, it was her new nickname, but it had nothing to do with her real name...) was puzzled by the chain of events for a few seconds. Trying to find answers, she took the newspaper left by the woman (nurse? Matron?) and began to read the main news when her eye fell on the date. August 28, 1991.

_ (WHAT). _

  


₪₪₪  


Dressed in a black blouse and an orange knee-length skirt, Ian (yes, Ian Moone, her stupid name) was eagerly awaiting the arrival of Professor McGonagall. And hadn't that been an even more shocking revelation than finding out that she had awakened even years before her birth? Getting into the Harry Potter-verse was a logical leap too big, even for an amateur time traveler.

_ (And because bad luck loves her chosen ones, she was back to being eleven and would have to go through all the puberty years a second time. She would have gladly asked forgiveness from anybody who was wronged by her in a previous life.). _

_ (In reality, there was no previous life: Destiny had paved the way and Fate had mapped out the path. After all the authors, every time they write a book, creates a universe of their own, right? And this universe, in that particular world, they needed Death's Angel as well as Death's Master). _

If she remembered correctly the plot of the first book, this year was the very first year for Harry too: kind Harry, full of curiosity and passion and forced to burn his professor alive at the end. No child should have had to go through life with such a burden, not to think about the Horcrux in his head. The mental list that Ian was making was getting longer and longer: the girl had every intention of helping him to the maximum of her abilities, despite frequent and big changes would surely affect her ability to predict the moves of both enemies and friends. Because, seriously, she wanted to help: she may have looked eleven but she was an adult in a child's body. 

_ (She would like to call it "The big sister instinct". Like Hell she was going to leave a child without support.) _

Not to mention the drama about which house she would end up in Hogwarts: Gryffindor would rule itself out, the Golden Trio should be safe in the red and gold pride, even without her; Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff would have been neutral choices to pursue whatever plan she may develop; but if she joined Slytherin, she could debunk the ugly name associated with the green and silver house. And the chance to piss off dear Voldy was to sweet to pass on.

_ (Lady Magic is laughing because the-girl-who-is-now-Ian could fit in all the four houses and be a fish out of the water at the same time.) _

Her thoughts were stopped by the arrival of the Transfiguration teacher and Ian almost lost his words on seeing the witch smile genuinely. Returning greetings and small pleasantries, together they appeared directly in London, near the Leaky Cauldron: Ian immediately saw other future students, future schoolmates - future companions in arms, future soldiers, even future deaths perhaps - and among them, there was Hermione. Perfect, maybe this would have speeded up the plans, even if a little. Now it was enough just to show up, says "Hi", be nice, and hope this wasn't a complete hallucination due to pain.

_ ("I think I would like to carve my name on your skin. It would look lovely, don't you think?") _

"Now that we're all finally here, I welcome you to the entrance to the Wizarding World for wizards and muggles. The Leaky Cauldron has been the link between two different cultures for years: here you can not only enter Diagon Alley, where you can buy all the necessary school supplies but also rent rooms, have lunch and dinner or use one of the most popular means of transport common in our world, the Floo Network. Please follow me in an orderly line now, we are about to enter. "

Like ducklings, the group - made up of new wizards and witches and their guardians - followed the teacher inside the pub, fortunately quiet and with few customers. After a brief introduction with the owner Tom, they finally made their way to the brick wall, the real entrance to the Wizarding World: paying a closer look, Ian tried to memorize the exact sequence of bricks so that she could return at any time and without adult supervision. A girl can only dream.

_ (She doubts she remembers it, she always had better luck learning things under stress.) _

The first stop was Gringotts, the famous bank of magicians: Ian can vaguely associate the huge white marble building with one of the many temples that can be found in Rome, but imposing and majestic all the same. Shyly, she let all the parents and relatives of her future companions pass first, leaving herself last. After all, she had neither cash nor a vault: she would have to invent something to pay for her education.

"Name and key."

"Ian Moone and... I don't have any keys, I don't have a vault here."

The goblin watched her sharply before writing something on a piece of paper, while calming Professor McGonagall, who had approached with a front.

"Sharpcut!"

Ian was surprised by the dry cry and to see a second goblin arrive only a second later: abruptly, he invited her to follow him into a more secluded room, making her sit in front of a simple polished wooden table. There was also a small dagger and a blank sheet of paper on it.

"Five drops of blood on this sheet. Not one more, not one less."

By applying - _genealogical test? Is there such a thing in the books?_ \- the sheet was first colored in black, and then the color left room for some kind of writing; it was taken by the goblin before Ian could even try to understand what was written but noticing the satisfied grin, the girl didn't dare to ask.

"Vault 698, one of the best secure vaults in our bank. Here the key. Deepcut will accompany you to withdraw your money. "

And with a ride that could knock down a giant, the girl found out she had a vault full of coin, books, strange objects, weapons and so much more. It was shocking but who was she to say no? A very large problem was solved without much fuss.

_ (Much later, Ian would have laughed until she cried thinking back to her first encounter with the Goblin Nation, the only race in the Wizarding World that, in any universe, will always remember who and what exactly she is). _

  


₪₪₪  


With most of the shopping done and with all the stuff safely stored in her smoke-colored trunk, it was time to visit Ollivander for their wands. Chatting animatedly with some girls about the choice of extra books made earlier, the exterior of the shop didn't give chills to the newcomers even though the eyes of the man inside would have made Queen Betty The Second shiver.

_ (And now that she thought about it, a lot of actual royal drama hadn't happened yet. She could have a bet on a lot of things and won a ton of money. Bet the goblins would like that. Ian felt a big headache coming if she stopped to think rationally about it.) _

Hermione's wand, as in the books, was made of vine wood and dragon heartstrings. Shiny and polished, it was the perfect match for a smart girl like Hermione, despite all the quirks that Ollivander kept babbling about. The moment Ian walked over to get her measurements taken - _and if that wasn't every fan of the saga's dream_ \- the shop owner remained unusually quiet, muttering incomprehensible words to himself.

Opening various boxes, Ian tried to shake different wands, all made of different materials and all with disastrous results. Memorable was the almost uncontrolled fire that begins in a vase with water inside for withered flowers: Ian carefully placed the wand back in its box with a fearful expression on her face. Hermione shook her curly head in incredulous exasperation. 

The match was found a few minutes later with a wand of exactly eleven inches, made of cypress wood and with a core of thestral hair, hardly flexible; it had elegant grain throughout its length - darker than the rest of the wood.

"Curious, really curious."

"What's curious Mr. Ollivander?"

"Your wand is incredibly loyal, miss Moone. Any other wizard will find that it will be very hard casting spells with it. And the wood with this core...they speak volumes of what your destiny will be."

_ (Destiny laughs because Ian Moone will always die at the end, no matter in what universe she will be.) _

"Well, thank you, Mr. Ollivander, I think this will be the last muggle-borns for this year."

Professor McGonagall interrupted the wand master's stream of consciousness before he could further frighten the group present; with all the shopping done and the train tickets delivered, the day was coming to an end: she had to take a couple of children back to their respective homes, but she would be able to return to her apartments before dinner.

Saying goodbye to Hermione and her parents, and promising the girl to try and sit together on the Hogwarts Express, Ian reappeared with the teacher at the entrance to the "Little Eden" family home; after yet another recommendation to be on time for the train and instructions on how to find it, the future teacher disappeared with a loud crack, returning to her quarters at the castle. There she will find herself thinking about the almost prophetic words of a wand master, ambiguous as well as truthful in judging the character of others, and could not help but think if this could not be a bad omen.

_ (Fate laughs because Ian Moone is always an omen but she will decide the balance between good and evil; or what humans believe it to be. Death chose her for that too). _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian has begun to lay down some background work, but nothing goes as she wants, and everything goes like the book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, another chapter! Sorry for the long wait, but uni is very tiring; anyways, I hope you like it! 
> 
> Warnings: explicit description of scars and panic attack; please, if they trigger you, be kind to yourself: I will tell you a summary if you ask me in the comments. No problem.
> 
> Reminder: English is not my first language, and I have no beta, so if you find errors or mistakes, please tell me: I will try to correct them as soon as I can!
> 
> Summer_time ends here!

The same face stares at her in the mirror. The same wild, curly, caramel hair frames her face - now longer to her torso, instead of last year's bob; her large mouth with her thin lips was the same, like the neo near her chin and her rosy cheeks. Her eyes were also like before, small with an iris of sharp blue-ice steel, but there is one detail that wasn’t there when she was eleven the first time.  
  
A scar. It crosses the left side of his face, cutting from the eyebrow to the eye, up to the middle of the cheek. It was a straight, flat scar, totally healed but the pink color contrasted sharply with the pallor of the rest of the face. Touching it, there was a small depression along its entire length but the skin underneath was warm and still had sensitivity, as if nothing had happened.  
  
( _It's a miracle that the knife blade avoided the eye completely, she could have gone blind by a matter of millimeters. If she closed her eyelids for a few more seconds, Ian could swear she felt the sensation of blood flowing slowly down her cheek. or fall in small drops on her lashes._ )  
  
Her body was the same, only de-aged: she still had two small hands, with her long, shrewd fingers with her pizza ring on her ??; her bulky breasts had not yet developed - _a blessing, at least now she knew how to behave and what types of bras buy_ \- but in her notebook she had found possible calendar days in September, indicating that her first period had already arrived. She will have to confront both the orphanage and Hogwarts’ nurses on tampon and sanitary issues. And pain relievers. Lots of pain relievers, at least for the first year.  
  
Two other scars were present to change the appearance of his body: one was on his left thigh, a small and thin thing, of a milky color; it could very well not be seen at first glance, by how pale her skin was. The second instead was a huge and grotesque thing, which spoke only of pain and suffering: it was as if someone had decided to diagonally cut Ian's body in two, a single line that connected the sternum to the right shoulder blade, crossing the whole right shoulder without mercy.  
  
( _After all, They can't completely avoid making Ian forget how she got into this new world. Or how she left the first one - being impaled by a sheet metal isn't the best way to die peacefully._ )  
  
Ian took a deep breath, feeling the anxiety rise from the depths of her throat: she breathed slowly and deeply, listening to the environment around her to calm down and remember not to get lost in the meanders of her mind. She listened to the light breathing of her dorm-mates as they slept peacefully, to the drop on the sink tap falling rhythmically, to the rustle of her shirt as it left room for her lungs. She mentally counted up to eight, eight seconds of an interval between one breath and the next, until he felt his heart resume a calmer rhythm. Only then she did move to get out of the small communal bathroom in which she was locked up: today was the day when her mission would officially begin. It was time to change history and make it better, if possible.  


─│─│─│─│─

  
Arriving at King's Cross Station during the early hours of the morning and discovering the chaos of people present did not bother Ian, accustomed to the confusion present in large train stations. With her trusty trunk running behind her like a lost puppy, a jam croissant in her free hand and the most pissed expression on her face, she pushed her way through the crowd, looking for the correct track: she wanted to wait for Harry, to get in together and bond right away, but maybe it was best to put her luggage down first and find an empty compartment on the train to settle in.

( _And if she pretended to snoop around the platform waiting for the arrival of a raven boy and a family of fiery heads, well no one would tell her anything, would they? After all, Ian was just a poor muggle-born in her first year, enthusiastic to embark on the greatest adventure of her life; to see and learn and to be accepted in a society separate from the rest of humanity, where however a minority of it wanted her dead and another part wanted her slave or submissive. Eh, you know what's new_.)

( _The train ride would have been a nice way to remember her old life, to the hours lost in one of the many trains that connected her town to her university; hours of nausea, headaches, tickets to stamp, and possible screaming brats. But it was always worth it, to be able to study, see, and live in a bigger and more active city, to be with her friends. She would have liked to see the sea from the port one last time, especially during the autumn months when, in the morning and evening, the mist rose above the water level._ )

The shrill whistle of the train marked the departure from the station: Ian was in the middle of one of the many corridors, immersed in memories when the movement of the vehicle brought her back to reality; concentrating and giving herself a mental push, she approached the door of the carriage compartment where she had seen for sure two-thirds of the golden trio boarding. After all, she had just to talk to them, she didn't have to dance the Salsa or recite the Divine Comedy in Latin; they also were two small children, two innocent eleven-year-olds and novices with the outside world: she was the adult of the situation, she could do it. She could absolutely have a conversation with two characters from a book without her anxiety deciding to spoil all by scaring them. Absolutely.

( _Oh my god, what her existence had become._ )

“Oh, sorry! Is there a free seat? I'm afraid they've taken over my compartment. "

( _Her excuse was pretty much the same as Ron's but maybe it would have created truth to her cover: first year here! She was sweet and cuddly, a great candidate for a friendship. And the uncertain tone of her voice, in the end, had marked points in her favor judging by Harry's shy smile. Victory!_ )

"It's all free, take a seat! Ron also found everything full. I'm Harry, Harry Potter, and this is Ron Weasley. "

“Ian Moone, it's a pleasure to meet you both. Are you a first-year too? "

Shaking hands with both boys and giving herself a high five in her mind, Ian began to gather information about her new acquaintances and lay the foundations for her cover story - _… muggle-born too! I am happy to meet another person like me!_ \- and a possible friendship. All while maintaining a light tone and without giving away too much of her knowledge: Ian did not yet know what her influence would entail in the long run, but she would have liked to maintain a previous general knowledge of the events at least. Especially if the situation could contain a danger for the entire school - you see, basilisk in the pipes, Death Eaters in the role of professors, professors possessed or being werewolves or sadists or incompetent. In short, there was a lot of work to do.

Spending the first few hours chatting and eating the treats Harry had bought, Ian couldn't help but tease the two about future houses: both of them vehemently protested their belonging to any home except Gryffindor. It would have been a solemn moment if Ian had held back his laughter - at the raven's crumbled face - and if Ron hadn't nearly choked on a chocolate frog in an attempt to support Harry. Hermione's arrival distracted all three of the kids from their little world and scored another point in her favor, introducing the girl known to Muggle-born orientation to her future companions. Indeed, her passion for the Magical World could have been more contained but this too would have been a strong point in their future friendship.

( _"You say a toad? We haven't seen it but maybe one of the prefects on the train can help you find it. Ron! Didn't you just say that one of your brothers is Prefect this year?"_

_“Yeah, mum was so happy to see Percy with his tag! He didn't stop repeating it for a minute, all summer to hear his annoying voice reminding all of us of his new role. He will probably be patrolling the corridor, but if you don't find him, all the prefects and school heads are in the last car of the train.")_

A less pleasant encounter was the one with Malfoy. The blond, flanked by his perennial bodyguards Goyle and Crabble - _opened the compartment door without even knocking, without apologizing and without offering his name. Just pure rudeness_. The pompous and contemptuous attitude struck all of them, from Harry - "You will soon find that some wizardry families are better than others, Potter." - to Ron - "Red hair and hand-me-down robe, you must be a Weasley." - to Hermione - “So quick to recite the rules at memory, a true know-it-all” - to finally Ian.

"You have no important name. Tell me, are you of our kind? "

"Well, I hope no, I don't want to be an idiot like you. Making fun of other children is like making enemies for life, plus on the train of our first day of the very first year? Not very smart. "

( _Ian would never say she's the smartest person on the planet because she's not. But seeing the future snake's cheeks turn bright pink - out of shame or embarrassment, she couldn't tell that - gives a slight satisfaction in her bowels._ )

( _Slytherin will be such a joy._ )  


─│─│─│─│─

  
The sky became darker and darker until it gave way to the night. Change into their school uniforms - _uncomfortable, downright uncomfortable. Who the hell wears a skirt in Scotland in September? Only the Scots, not bloody me_ \- all the firsts year, came close to Hagrid, the half-giant Harry had dealt with just a month earlier.

(" _Harry, how do you know the gamekeeper?"_

_“Hagrid handed me my letter and took me to Diagon Alley to buy the rest of the material. He even gave me Hedwige! My owl! "_

_“Harry, didn't any professor come to help you? Or to explain the rules, customs, and traditions? You've at least taken the guides to the wizarding world, haven't you? ... From your puzzled face I'd say no. Don't worry, Hermione and I can lend you ours without any problems. Strange though, if you're as famous as you say, someone important should have met you to help you understand your new situation._ )

( _Ah! Ian: one, Albus Dumbledore: zero_ )

Stepping into the boat with Neville, Ian enjoyed both the sound of Harry's thoughts on what he had just mentioned, the sound of the water moving from the boats, and the feeling of magic that permeated the air; a surprised chorus distracted her from the shadows of the surrounding forest trees: in all its magnificence, Hogwarts Castle stood to welcome new students.

( _Magic. Everything is magical._ )  


─│─│─│─│─

  
"Moone, Ian."

Professor McGonagall's voice was clear and strong as she chanted her name; Ian climbed the few steps, walked over to the stool, like all the other students before her, until he sat down and eagerly awaited her draw. The lightweight of the Talking Hat dropped over her head, covering even her eyes, and in the silence of the Great Hall, a voice rang in the girl's head.

“Well, well, what do we have here! Yes, a head full of ideas! And very curiously, you already have a past life, oh yes it is!"

“I still don't know what or how it happened but I woke up here; I will take advantage of the school's vast library to find out if there is a solution to my particular situation; or if someone has had a similar experience. And since you already know what I'm thinking and how I plan to achieve my goals, in which house do you think I can best help?"

"Oh, there is no doubt what the best solution is, and do not fear the person you will grow to be. Despite your courage in facing opponents stronger than you, your creativity in defeating them, and your loyalty to your family of choice, you are a real friend, so better be - SLYTHERIN!"

Smiling, Ian handed the Talking Hat back to the Transfiguration teacher, walking over to the silver-green table that was politely applauding. She sat in the vacant seat next to Daphne Greengrass, introducing herself to her future dorm mate for the next seven years - she must make a good impression, she didn't want to antagonize the whole table from the first night.

She cheered encouragingly for all the new ones drawn to the end of the list, ignoring the perplexed glances of her house-mates at her enthusiasm; she completely ignored Headmaster Dumbledore's speech as well, wrinkling her nose at the thought of what was really hiding in the third floor. She then dived into the food that appeared suddenly: the girl was not very hungry, counting that she had already eaten the sweets on the train, but at the sight of all those dishes full of delicacies, she could not help but feel the water in her mouth.

( _Oh Headmaster, you have no idea how the situation will turn out with me here. I am no child.)_

( _In the future, Harry will giggle and name this attitude as the Apprehensive Big Sister; Ian will not be grumpy for the rest of the day. She will not._ )

Following the two Prefects along the corridors with his housemates, at the end of the hearty welcome dinner, Ian tried to chat and find out about the political situation of the group: Slytherin was certainly the most versed house on the political side of things, giving life also to a lasting alliance in the various generations: it was no coincidence that the future Lord Malfoy and Nott - and many others - had decided to follow Voldysmort on the recommendation of their parents - in turn, influenced by their parents, school-mates of Tom Riddle.

As it happened, at the moment the year's leader looked like Malfoy, with the alliance with the Houses of Crabble and Goyle - perhaps more alliance of servitude than of equal people; probably Lord Malfoy, having avoided Azkaban, kept the weight of the family name - the Zabini Family and the House of Parkinson; he also seemed to have some sort of truce with the future Lady Greengrass, her protege Tracey Davis, and the Nott House, if Ian had read correctly the slight insults exchanged by the various parties. Bulstrode didn't seem to have any connection with the two sides but perhaps he was just waiting for the right moment to line up. She could work with this, at least they weren't all siding with Malfoy.

( _Ian had every intention of making the blond snake understand that mass genocide was not the solution to the problems of the Magical World. Even at the cost of banging his very blond head against a wall._ )

The basement opened to a wall flanked by two statues of two cobras: dragon breath was the password for the next two weeks, she should have remembered it; entering, Ian immediately noticed the large and narrow windows that gave a view of the Black Lake and its aquatic creatures. A long table, surrounded by black leather sofas and armchairs, various stone fireplaces, and paintings hanging all over the room, gave a sense of conviviality to the whole room.

“Well, firsts year! I'm Gemma Farley and I'm one of two fifth-year Prefects. My duty, and that of my colleagues, is to help you in your first year at Hogwarts and to enforce the rules. You have been chosen for Slytherin and you are here because you are ambitious, you are cunning, you are independent: our house has given the best wizards and witches to the Wizarding World and will continue to do so!  
Study and do our great Founder honor: if you have any problems, don't hesitate to ask me or my partner or any other Slytherin student; here we take care of each other.

Don't break the rules and if you do, don't get caught: we are not well-liked by most of the school so the punishments could be more severe than in other houses. For every break-in committed, points will be deducted: we won the House Cup for seven consecutive years for a reason, don't be the first to make us lose the record!  
Professor Snape is our Head of house, he teaches Potions and his office is always open for us from eight in the evening until ten, in the event of problems that we Prefects are unable to solve or for serious matters.

I would say that's it, at least for the moment. Remember to look at the board near that fireplace to see the new password or for other important communications. And now to bed! Guys, follow Pucey, he will take you to your dormitory; girls, on the other hand, you are with me!"

( _If the headache hadn't come on the train ride, it sure was there now with all the string of words coming out of the Prefect. Ian felt her brain burst from the avalanche of information._ )  


─│─│─│─│─

  
Thus began Ian's adventure in the magical world. The first month passed in the blink of an eye, between lessons, spells, attempts to connect with her dorm-mates, points earned, and homework delivered.

Ian had listened to Malfoy ordering all freshmen to stay away from Harry from day one, that he would take care of putting the raven Gryffindor in his place and bringing honor to all the Slytherins; Ian nodded along with everyone else and then immediately ignored the command: with the grace worthy of a hippo, one early morning she sat down at the red-gold table next to Hermione, starting to mumble at the girl about connections between Herbology and Potions while buttering a sandwich. She would have laughed at the faces of her classmates, especially at Seamus's open mouth, if she hadn't been possessed by sleep: staying up until two in the morning reading the Herbology tome hadn't been such a great idea.

( _"Hermione, nowhere is it written that I have to eat all my everyday meals at the same table, despite the table belonging to my house. And yes, I checked."_ )

"Ian?"

Turning to Harry's uncertain voice, she couldn't help but smile at both him and Ron, who was looking at her as if she had a second head attached to her neck - _in any case, better that than a second face attached to the back of the neck, right dear Voldy?_

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you know that this isn't the Slytherin table, right?"

“I'm aware Harry, but thanks for the thought. It's very kind of you to worry about me."

“So what are you doing here?! We don't want slimy snakes on our table!"

Ian let her disinterested gaze intimidate the red boy, and most of the firsts year around him, before responding to what was a poorly hidden prejudice.

“It did seem to me that you were happily talking to me while we were on the train, Ron, or was it all my vision, a joke of my mind? And as long as you continue to denigrate other people just because they ended up in a house other than Gryffindor, you will be no better than Malfoy and his silly hints about the difference between right and wrong magical families or his unfair views on your own family.  
Now, if you will excuse me, I'm not going to be friends with any phobics; Hermione, see you later at Potions."

That same afternoon, Harry and Ron approached her during the girl's free period to apologize and to assure her that they had nothing against seeing her in Slytherin, only concerned about the reputation of her house. Ian smiled at them and waved away their worries: at the moment, the snake's people and their machinations were her last concern. The Transfiguration assignment for the weekend, that was putting pressure on her!  


─│─│─│─│─

  
The beginning of October brought two events that made Ian hit the meal table with her head: one was the accident during the first flight lesson, and the other was the accident with Malfoy in the common room.

Of the first, Ian was not involved: as soon as Neville fell from his broom, the girl volunteered to accompany him to the infirmary with the teacher; she spent the rest of the afternoon with the Gryffindor boy talking about Herbology and making arrangements to study together in the library on Thursdays when they both had two hours off in the afternoon before dinner. 

( _If Ian had suggested preparing future potions as if they were fertilizers for plants and had alluded to their usefulness in the potions that contained them, well no one needed to know.)_

_(In the days that followed, Severus Snape wondered for a moment if the disaster that was Neville Longbottom was merely the result of a general ineptitude in his subject versus an inability to be a wizard. Potion was not for everyone, he knew it. But he was still a student who would have done better not set foot in his workshop. Never.)_

When Ian later learned of the clash between Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindors against Malfoy and his gang, and how it all worked out with Harry be the new Gryffindor Quidditch team's seeker, she couldn't help but bang her head against the table in the middle of dinner. This attracted several confused Slytherin glances, especially from older students, as the girls in her dorm gave her commiserating looks. All except Parkinson: the girl had decided from the first moment that Ian was the incarnate evil and did nothing but go against her in everything possible. The study, classroom responses, homework, opinions. It would have been infuriating if Ian was really eleven; instead, the girl found it rather funny: after all, Pansy was putting all her effort into it and this rivalry was bringing only points to the green House.

The second incident involved Ian much more closely: the girl had completely forgotten about the fake duel that Malfoy put in place to trick Harry and Ron in the trophy room. Fortunately for her, the blond had no trouble proclaiming his superior intellect aloud - _compared to Harry, it was all to Harry; definitely a small inferiority complex_ \- to his circle of allies in the middle of the common room: this attracted a lot of attention from the uppers and no one, therefore, gave much thought seeing the little green snake going out from the room, with a muttered half-excuse about lost Charms' book in the corridor to Greengrass and Davis.

Curfew was a few twenty minutes away and Ian was hoping with all her heart to find a Gryffindor student so she could pass her warning and then return to her dorm without being seen.

( _When could Ian ever have so much luck: either she found a student and warned Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville, or was not discovered by the Prefects and professors as she navigated the corridors and stairways of Hogwarts. Not both._ )  


─│─│─│─│─

  
"Ron, for God’s sake! You were living all your life in the Magical World, how on Earth is it possible that you didn't immediately understand the idiocy of Malfoy's proposal! Duels in the middle of the night? Without anyone as a referent? No doctor or a third party to confirm the victory? But above all, a duel between students without anyone informing a professor? Thank goodness I found you before Flinch arrived!"

Ian took Neville's wrist, after finishing to scold the others Gryffindors, and dragged the poor boy after her, as they silently tried to avoid the night patrols.  


─│─│─│─│─

  
“Run, run! No, no, where are you going?! Ian, that staircase leads to the Astronomy Tower! Get moving, Ms. Norris is catching up with us!"

Ian wanted to sarcastically retort to Hermione' speech but the lack of air in her lungs made it very difficult to make even a simple sound; in her mental list of things to do, in addition to now making life difficult even for the squib and his cat, the option to Get fit took place, despite the girl's unwillingness. But in the long run, her physique would benefit, especially if within a few years she would have to fight against experienced and adult wizards.

─│─│─│─│─

  
"Great, we're on the third floor - _Neville, you are a sweet boy, but this is not the time to state the obvious_ \- We have to get out of here!"

“We know Neville, but for now we have no choice, Flinch is close. Quick, let's hide inside that door!"

Harry retorted the blond Gryffindor and then ran and began to fumble with the heavy iron handle of the wooden door: but no matter how hard he tried to open it, the entrance in question remained impassively closed. A cry of frustration escaped from the raven boy as Ron began to panic due to the stressful situation the five kids were in.

“Oh, move! Alohamora!"

Thank goodness for Hermione and her exceptional ability to get anyone out of trouble. With a sigh, Ian slumped along with the wooden door, squinting, listening to Flinch's murmur and Ms. Norris's meowing getting away every second more.

( _Obviously, at that precise moment, an uneasy growl vibrated in the air: above the heads of the group of children, the three heads of the Cerberus were raised. Ian had to bite her inner cheek to keep from screaming in frustration: all her background work was completely wasted away in mere seconds. Stupid Flinch and stupid Ms. Norris for the chase; stupid Malfoy for the stupid duel invitation; stupid Dumbledore for creating the situation from the start.)_

_(She screamed along with the other boys as one of the three heads tried to tear off her arm. She screamed in agitation until the door closed and the beast was clearly not going anywhere near their group.)_

_(The feeling of panic and danger had awakened in her mind. Memories of pain, dangers, tears, and death_.)  


─│─│─│─│─

  
Cold. Ian felt cold.  
Though she had safely returned to her common room, despite being safe in the snake pit, Ian felt very cold; the shivers clearly visible on the skin of her arms, her hands constantly moving to create heat.

Sitting by one of the fireplaces, with the embers still hot, hadn't helped the girl who had therefore put on a sweater and then wrapped herself in a blanket; despite this, the cold continued to penetrate all her bones and cloud her mind, increasing her breathing and making frantic her movements. Her heart was beginning to beat furiously in her chest and her hands could not stay still, but rather continued to open and close rhythmically.

( _In her previous life, Ian had suffered from a mild social anxiety disorder, related to her fear of others' judgment; she has sought help to decrease her worries and after a long journey, she was much better. A knowledgeable person in psychologism could safely say that the girl could have suffered from severe anxiety, panic, and PTSD following her last experience, especially with a contact so close to death. If she would have survived, of course.)_

The rational part of Ian's brain was clearly sending out signals at the body of the impending panic attack, probably due to the encounter with a huge three-headed dog that wanted to eat anyone who saw. And her mind could only connect this episode to the last hours of her first life, where life and death were closely linked.

( _Ian hadn't had any nightmares in the last few months, although she rationally knew she had to start working and accept her own peculiar situation. She was waiting for the Christmas holidays when she would have lots of alone times and no one in the dorm to wake up with her screams and incomprehensible words._ )

The girl had not noticed the continuous passage of time: busy as she was in avoiding sinking into the abyss of what had happened to her, she could neither hear the common room's door open nor see the Prefects Fawley and Pucey enter, having finished their night watch. Ian couldn't even hear the fifth year' girl's words to her, only see her lips and facial muscles move; she tried to make her understand that there was nothing to worry about, that she would handle the situation better, and that she only needed a little more time, but her mouth seemed not to cooperate with her brain; even her eyes seemed uncooperative if the tears that had begun to fall were any indicator.

( _Ian wanted to avoid eating or drinking anything, certain she would throw up the contents of her stomach in five minutes. But the black-covered hand was trying insistent to shove something into her mouth and Ian was very tired: she drank the slimy liquid, trying to do not smudge it along with his newly bought sweater; drowsiness began to spread down her back: Ian closed her eyes and allowed herself to sleep, she would deal tomorrow with the new situation she was in and with the insistent black hand._ ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based the description of Slytherin's common room on what Harry Potter Wiki says. 
> 
> I create the profile of Ian Moone at 22 years old, thanks to this amazing site: https://picrew.me/   
> (Twitter: https://twitter.com/makowwka)  
> Here, you can create a profile for your OC for free; it really helped me visualize Ian. If you want to see her, here is the link:  
> https://picrew.me/share?cd=C9CMd5naQI


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